


WE BLEED THE SAME

by sunshineandsnow (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes - Freeform, F/M, Multi, Other, Scarlet Witch - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Wanda Maximoff - Freeform, and non-romantic relationships between any characters, but mainly winterwitch, i can write Romanogers, or olstan here, scarletsoldier, winterwitch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sunshineandsnow
Summary: Consider this an archive for all my Marvel-writings.Mostly winterwitch! One-shots are my forte. This a prompt-fueled project, so please send in requests through my tumblr (or comment, that works too).What I'll write should be in the tags, but if you have any questions, just ask. :)If I decline a prompt it's most likely because I don't feel qualified to write it, or maybe I'm just not interested. Some things I won't write: romantic!stucky, staron, romantic!winterwidow, smut (I can't write smut for my life), or supernatural!aus (just not a fan of the vampire/werewolf/etc.)





	1. "This wasn't so bad, was it?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [seductiveturnip](http://seductiveturnip.tumblr.com/): "K gal I got a prompt for we bleed the same- tell me about Bucky and wanda's first 'date' ;)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went from sad to cute to sad and back again and honestly I'm so confused. Some Romanogers in the beginning. :3 Thanks for the request, Bells!!

Half the team is out on a mission when Steve broaches the subject. 

“So,” he begins, blue eyes focused on Bucky as the pair of them dodge successive laserfire. “When’re you gonna take Wanda out on a proper date?”

The question hits the air unexpectedly, bewilderment and the expression of a cornered animal creeping onto Bucky's face. The soldier pulls his childhood friend to the ground as an explosive device detonates over their heads, an intense ringing filling their ears before quickly fading out. Half-laughing, Bucky replies: “Only  _you_  would bring up 'dating' in the middle of a mission.”

"Actually, I find on-the-job relationship-guidance to be surprisingly productive," a sultry, smiling voice interrupts from over the comms. 

"Oh, is that what you call it, Agent Romanoff?  _Relationship guidance_?" Steve asks, grinning.

"Shut up, Rogers. I'll admit, Barnes: the old man has a point. Are you going to ask Wanda out, or not?"

Another nearby explosion prevents Bucky from giving an immediate answer, a small window he's grateful for. He'd been asking himself the same question, over the course of the past few days. The closer he became with the little witch, the more he knew there was something missing, something undone between them. They'd confessed their feelings to each other not long ago, and they were still trying to figure out where to go from there. The rest of the team continued to claim that it was  _blatantly obvious,_ the witch and the soldier falling for each other, but to hell with them. Bucky was surprised. If he was honest with himself, he knew he was afraid - scratch that, he was  _terrified_  to ruin the beautiful, fragile, unnamed connection he and Wanda had to each other.    

 “That building's about to come down on your heads, boys," Natasha informs them, cutting through Bucky's swirling thoughts. "Meet me at the rendezvous point." The two super-soldiers break into a run for the nearest safe-spot, Steve giving Nat the OK. The Captain gives his friend another probing smile.  

“Don't overthink it, Buck. You were always the guy every girl wanted to go dancing with. This isn’t any different.”

Bucky does his best to hide the scowl forming on his face. With a controlled tone, he responds: “Well. I’m not that guy anymore, am I?”

Steve drops the subject.

* * *

When the team returns to the compound, Bucky picks up the nearest phone and dials the Barton-family's number. Wanda had taken to spending more than a few days at the farm, insisting she was of more use there than cooped up in her room. Steve continued to remind the witch that there was a vacancy for her on the team; even Bucky had tried to talk her into going on a few missions.

"I don't trust myself anymore," she'd mumbled in response, exiting the room and so ending the conversation. Bucky was careful not to bring up the idea again.

He paces in anxious anticipation as the phone rings, a smile forming as Wanda's voice greets him on the other end. "Hello?" Childlike laughter sounds in the background, accompanied by Wanda's own chuckling. "Cooper; Lila; stop teasing poor Nathaniel," she chides, no edge to her smiling voice.

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," he remarks, earning a laugh from Wanda.

"Not even close," she exclaims, continuing, "This is them on a good day. That you, James? I was wondering if you'd call."

"Yeah. Listen," he begins, trying to gather the right words in his head. "I, uh, was thinking I'd come down. With you, I mean."

"Really? Would you?" Delight laces her words, and a wave of wanting to see her overtakes him.

"Of course. We just got back from a mission, and I - I don't know. I was thinking about you. I miss you," he admits, softly, his mouth burning with the confession.

"I miss you, too," she replies, and he's not sure if he's having a heart attack or if the damn muscle is doing backflips in his chest.

"So, it's okay, then? If I come over for a bit. We can - Wanda, I - I was actually wanting to, uhm."

His thoughts are screaming, swirling in the blackness of his mind. Telling him _no_ ,  _no_ ,  _it's a bad idea,_ _she doesn't want this from you_. But simultaneously he's bombarded with images of Wanda and her contagious smile; the way his hands shook when he kissed her for the first time; memories that won't quite emerge, memories of crowded dance halls and swinging music and a feeling of ecstatic happiness. 

"I know you don't like to go out," he continues, stepping over the words with the grace of a wobbling toddler, "And I know there's not many places for us to go, either, but, I was thinking. We haven't gone on an actual date, yet, and - I don't know - I wanted to ask you. See what you thought."

"Bucky, is this you trying to ask me on a date?"

"Yes. Mmhm; that's what I was going for." There is a slight pause, (he really wishes he could see the expression on her face) before Wanda giggles. Actually giggles, which gets him smiling, too.

"You're sweet, _soldat_. I'll go wherever you want me to," she says, so softly it's almost a whisper. Chills run down his spine. "I'll see you soon?" she asks, and he nods like an idiot, before replying with a firm, slightly giddy, _yes, of course, yes._

* * *

"Look," Wanda exclaims, tossing him a purplish fruit. "I asked Laura to pick some up for you." Bucky laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

"Plums," he says simply, identifying the item in his metal hand.

Wanda wears a satisfied smile, standing over the kitchen counter, a bunch of fresh blueberries in a bowl before her. The friendly jabber of Cooper and Lila, Clint's oldest kids, drifts through the air from the living room, their mother keeping them entertained with a plethora of coloring books.

"Steve said you liked them," Wanda explains, moving the blueberries into a heated sauce pan. She throws in a dash of sugar as the mixture simmers.

"What're you making?" he asks, curiously leaning over the counter to better view the concoction.

"Blueberry sauce," she answers, flashing him a teasing smile.

"For what, may I ask?" She shakes her head, close-lipped smile widening. He's been staring at those lips a little too much since he'd arrived at the farmhouse. Wanda was sure to have noticed, at least once. He hopes his face isn't too red with embarrassment.

"Auntie, Auntie, look!" Lila races into the kitchen, tugging on the hem of Wanda's red shawl. "I drew you a picture," she squeaks, handing over the piece of colored paper.

"Oh, _predivan_! It's very good." Wanda bends down to kiss the top of the girl's head, and Lila retreats with a proud grin. "She's adorable," Wanda remarks, returning to the stovetop.

Bucky leans his arms onto the counter, watching the witch with an adoring gleam in his blue eyes. "They seem to really like you."

"I should hope so." She pulls open one of the kitchen drawers, retrieving a spoon. She ladles a bit of the blueberry sauce onto the spoon and extends it to him. "Taste?" He smiles, accepting her offer.

"Mm. Good." She grins.

"Would you get the ice-cream for me? It's just in the freezer."

He likes this - likes the feeling of them, a pair of wounded souls making dessert in a cluttered kitchen. It feels cozy, with the last rays of sunlight streaming through the windows, laughter in the living room, and her, humming a song he doesn't recognize. The tub of ice cream is set onto the counter, his eyes taking in the sight of Wanda pulling mugs from the cupboards, scooping ice-cream into them and pouring generous amounts of the blueberry sauce into each cup. The scene is so utterly domestic he wants to laugh. Who'd've thought time would find them, here, like this? Two warriors away from the battle - he doesn't feel like a soldier, in her presence. He feels human. He feels alive.

" _Voila,_ " she says in jest, presenting a mug to him, all smiles. "It's what I could whip up, on short notice."

"Perfect," he assures her. They head out onto the porch and watch the sunset, finishing up the chilled ice-cream on a warm summer night. It's nothing much, not how he would've pictured it, but they are together and she is laughing at his jokes and something about the moment feels absolutely _right_.

"I was a bit nervous," she whispers to him, fiddling with the tassels on her shawl. Her rings glint with silver and red, greens and ebony-blues, even in the dark of the disappearing sunlight. It makes her pale hands seem gilded with armor.

"Of what?" he asks, softly. She looks up at him, her hazel eyes shimmering with an unidentifiable emotion.

"When you called, about a date. I just - I haven't been on many. Maybe when I was younger... well. I'm different now, y'know? A 'date' just feels so normal. I didn't know if I could do that." Surprise builds in his chest, makes its' way out of his mouth through laughter. She smiles, bewildered. "What? What is it?"

"No, it's - I was thinking the same thing! It's silly, isn't it? Steve was the one who suggested - he seemed to think I wasn't doing things _properly,_ with you. But, I - I haven't been the man he knew, for so long. I don't remember how Bucky Barnes was, back then. It seems like another life. Seems like it isn't mine."

Wanda sidles closer to him, listening. She touches, delicately, the sleeve of his shirt - it is comfort, or how she knows to give it. "I was... scared, to ask. Afraid you didn't - wouldn't want that of me. Not that I can give you much, anyway." He shines a broken smile at her, warmth tinting his cheeks. "But, this wasn't so bad, was it?"

His left hand reaches for hers, tentative, nudging the curve of her wrist. The metal is cold against her skin, but she feels a burning in her fingertips - such a violent need to be close to him, paired with the ever-present fear of touch, of contact. Her mouth trembles as she takes his hand. Then, the warmth of his right hand, over hers. So soft and gentle.

"This is good," she whispers, and hopes he understands, hopes he recognizes the gratefulness in her voice, the love gripping her heart with a thrilling ferocity. He thinks he might melt into her, into the happiness and tenderness of the moment. No experience of his past could rival what he feels for her. _This is good_.             

          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message me on my [tumblr](http://winterxblood.tumblr.com/#)!


	2. headcanons - by moi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a collection of some winterwitch headcanons I've posted on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to compile these - I may add more as time goes on. Feel free to request a larger piece inspired by one of these! :D

**i.**

Technically, Bucky was the first to lose his virginity. Before the war, back when he was a regular at the dance hall and a smiling charmer, he met a girl. He thought she was beautiful the moment he saw her; spent all his time trying to impress her, get her to laugh. They became close and he swore he was going to marry her, young, innocent boy that he was. Times changed and the war pushed them apart. He can’t remember what she looked like, but he knows she felt soft, like a future that didn’t seem terrifying.

But, Wanda, she was young - younger than Bucky was. Maybe fifteen, the first time. She and Pietro had taken to the streets by then, getting jobs when they could and stealing food when they needed to. It was rough, and winter was coming, but no one was offering work. Except for one establishment - Wanda was desperate, and hungry and so cold - _it’s just dancing_ , she told herself, _just putting on a show_. They needed the money. But there was always someone reaching for her, someone putting their hands where they shouldn’t, shouting dirty words at her with wolfish smiles. She hated them, hated the way they looked at her, but Pietro wasn’t so skinny, now he was eating, and Wanda kept that in her mind.

She was leaving that night, heading to the shelter she and Pietro were calling home. But a stumbling patron stinking of alcohol shoved her into a wall and didn’t listen when she shouted for him to stop. Muffled screams in a back-alley were too common in her country. No one came running. Pietro found her, a few hours later, tears streaking her face and loathing clenched in her fists. He held her and held her and held her. Made it very clear to the establishment’s owners that Wanda would never work for them again.

Wanda tells Bucky all of this, the first early morning they share, tangled together, breathing in sync. He cries and kisses her, so tender and gentle and loving, always loving. She believes him when he says she never deserved that kind of pain. For the first time, she believes it.

 

**ii.**

Of the two of them, Bucky gets jealous more easily. He hates himself for it, but he does. 

Wanda is so beautiful to him, so precious, and while he tells himself again and again that he doesn’t deserve her, he can’t help but feel that burning ache whenever someone else pays her a little too much attention. (His heart says _she belongs to him_ , and Wanda would agree, but oh, Bucky, he won’t let himself think something so wonderful.) 

He knows Wanda is pretty; eye-catching; Wanda is someone you can’t help but look at twice. Still, Bucky takes it all the wrong way - whether they’re out on a date or on an undercover mission or just _together_  but with someone Bucky doesn’t know well - he gets quiet and starts clasping his hands together, his blue eyes staring determinedly at the opposite wall or at the floor. 

(Because it _scares him_ , really, the enormous fire in his chest when someone holds her gaze just a bit too long, when some stranger gets flirty with _his girl._ She isn’t his, but he wants her to be.) 

Wanda always sees, always senses Bucky’s emotions and she wants to go to him, wants to figure out what’s happening in his head and wants to _fix -_ while Bucky simmers in his jealousy, all the while wondering why his heart holds onto her so fiercely, so _wrongly_ , it seems, because she is a free soul and he cannot lay claim to something so beautiful. He can’t chain her to his broken kind of love. He knows _control_ , he knows _property_ , and he hates himself for thinking of her like a _possession_ _,_ something his and his _alone_. 

But he’s human. And he loves her. 

The first chance she gets, Wanda will kiss him and press her forehead to his, whispering  _I am yours, yours, yours,_ and he’s not sure if he should feel such pride when she says those simple words. Such pride that a beautiful creature like she could love such a beast like him.

 

**iii.**

The bad days are almost predictable. Their fights build momentum, after stressful missions, after a string of nightmares, after Wanda’s birthday. (She mourns her brother yet.) Both of them have learned to bare their teeth when wounded. It is instinct, or programming, or years spent convinced you were only a forest-fire waiting to happen. Both are afraid the other might slip through their fingers. One wrong word, one fiery tone taken too harshly, and the quiet explodes. There is no logic to their arguments—they claw at what they can, desperate for a defense—there is no reason, sometimes. Shouting breaks into dangerously low voices, rises to a crescendo, a clanging symphony. There comes a point when neither can breathe and Wanda’s cheeks are flushed scarlet and Bucky’s mind feels like a burning blizzard. The words cease to flow until all that rests between them is taught regret, unspoken apologies that twist their guts and pound at their heartbeats. Bucky grasps Wanda’s hand like a rope tossed over a cliff he’s dangling from—Wanda startles but doesn’t dare pull away. She watches his eyes swirl in deep blues and blacks, allows herself a peek into his flurried thoughts. They find calm in each other’s chaos. The tension fades as his grip turns soft, turns warm and broken like an exhausted memory. He bows his head, eyes closing, and oh, so quietly, she hears him whispering, her name, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry_. She pulls him close and they fall tender into each other’s arms, forgiveness seeping through their bones and making a home out of their shattered bodies. It does not prevent the next battle, nor the one after. But they will meet in the same way every time, white flags waving and lips uttering apologies. Maybe they will laugh over it, later, if they remember to.

 

**iv.**

Bucky can’t fit any of Wanda’s clothes, she’s so tiny. (Though you might find him snuggled up with a shawl of hers on occasion.) Wanda has been ‘borrowing’ Bucky’s clothes since before they were even together. She was very discreet about it, of course (Bucky still believes it was Steve that stole his favorite hoodie), but sometimes Barnes will find Wanda lounging in a pair of his sweatpants or snatching one of his jackets when she heads out to the gardens. He doesn’t really mind (as long as she returns them intact). She wears his old T-shirts to bed and he loves the way they fit on her, loves the way she feels like home, sleeping next to him.

 

**v.**

Both are afraid of thunderstorms. But, Bucky's better at blocking them out. They remind Wanda too much of the explosion that killed her parents. She likes the sound of rain, but the thunder and flashes of bright light scare her. Has her jumping out of her skin, so to speak. Bucky holds her hand, tries to keep her distracted. Puts on music, or a movie. She’ll still flinch at every rumble of thunder, every lightning strike. But he shines a comforting smile her way and her heart calms, for the moment.

 

**vi.**

Out in public, they’re always a unit. No exception for the occasional food runs. Bucky gets anxious if he doesn’t know where Wanda is. Her powers allow her to sense his presence, but his super-soldier programming still leaves him vulnerable to paranoia. He breathes easier, knowing she’s nearby. They enjoy the normal-ness of shopping as a couple; the simple choices of one item over the other. A tandem effort, a ridiculous kind of dance. They take their time through the aisles, discussing prices and who’s most likely to eat all the cereal before their next shopping trip (Bucky). It’s easy, and they’re together, and that’s all that really matters.

 

**vii.**

They’re stubborn, and their arguments get pretty heated. Neither wants to be the one to back down. They’re fighters - it’s who they are, whether they like it or not. But they love each other. They find ways to work it out. 

Wanda is almost always the last one to fold. Bucky can’t stand her being upset with him. The notion claws at his heart, tears him to shreds. He forces himself to calm, to apologize and try and smooth things out. He offers time to think, time to settle; offers consideration and care. 

Nothing is repaired immediately. But his humility tugs on Wanda’s emotions, gets her to see past whatever turmoil is raging in her head. Gets her to focus, to listen to his apology. To forgive. They will always forgive.

 

**viii.**

Both grew up in eras where small acts of kindness were all that could be given. Bucky, moreso than Wanda, needs to be reminded ever so often, that he’s cared for and that he’s loved. Wanda’s all for it - she leaves sticky notes on every surface of his bedroom, scribbled ‘I love you’s and affectionate pet-names. She gives him a talisman - a small, silver charm - _for good luck_ , she says with a smile. _To keep my love safe_. The Barton children catch on and start presenting Bucky with personalized drawings and handfuls of wildflowers whenever the couple visits. He grins like an idiot every time, a bit of a blush creeping into his cheeks. Mumbling thank-yous. Wanda laughing, kissing him, teasing that he’s so easy to please.

 

**ix.**

Bucky stops to pet strangers' dogs. Wanda’s more of a cat person, but Bucky loves all animals. Loves the way they look at him, no judgment in their eyes, just curiosity. Especially the dogs - they love Bucky, too. Yapping or barking when he comes near, tails wagging in anticipation. He completely ignores whatever human-being is showcasing the animal; goes right in for a _who’s a good boy_  head-rub. Wanda’s usually out with him when this happens. She flashes an apologetic, blushing smile at the pet-owner, a smile that says _it can’t be helped_. It brings such a wonderful expression to Bucky’s face - all that unbiased affection, a soldier and man’s best friend. Bucky talks about getting a dog of his own, one day, and Wanda just smiles, laughs along. Anything to make him happy.

 

**x.**

Neither of them realize they’re cuddlers ‘til they start sleeping together. Both were used to sleeping ramrod-straight. The plush beds bothered them for a long while. Wanda always gravitates to Bucky’s warmth, even in her sleep. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night to her legs tangled with his, her head on his shoulder and her hands in loose fists against his chest. Other nights, Wanda will wake to find Bucky’s arms wrapped around her torso, his steady breathing tickling the back of her neck. Eventually they forget there was any other way. If they’re separated for even a night, they ache with the absence of another warm soul snuggled against them.  

 

**xi.**

They’re both morning people, early risers - sleep has never been too kind to either of them, so they get used to pushing it aside as soon as possible. They throw off the night like a coat soaked with rainwater.

It gets easier. They share a bed and the pillows don’t feel as suffocating; the blankets aren’t the linen restraints they used to be. Suddenly, their mornings happen slowly. 

Bucky still wakes, like clockwork, as the sun rises, but he lingers, enjoys the half-asleep feeling of Wanda in his arms, warm bodies pressed together. He smiles when she stirs, eyes still closed in peaceful sleep, the early sunlight glowing over her skin. He wants to stay in that moment, forever: her long curls spread onto the pillow, her hands over his, everything soft, soft, like cotton-candy and spring and a good night’s rest.

He’ll untangle himself from her eventually, as quietly as he can, cursing every creak of bedsprings, praying she’ll remain, as she is, contently smiling in a dreamless sleep. Throws on warm clothes, a t-shirt that smells like her, goes to the kitchen and makes coffee. Brings up two mugs, steaming, sets them on the nightstand and waits. Wanda stretches, opens her eyes, smiles at him. _Thanks for letting me sleep in,_ she’ll mumble, and his heart feels light, satisfied, at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message my [tumblr](http://winterxblood.tumblr.com/#)!


	3. Falling Slowly (or Not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “how bout a teenage winterwitch. opposites attract. thank you." requested by @sleepygrimm on tumblr.  
> A teenage!winterwitch AU, where Bucky and Wanda work at the same library. :)

Two months spent working this place and Bucky still can’t find his way around. The rows of bookshelves make his head spin. Dewey Decimal system be damned; the numbers adorning each column don’t help one bit. At least he’s stopped passing out in the History section. Ms. Carter insisted that if she discovered him unconscious on her library floor _one more time_ , he’d be on the street. Not that she really meant it—he thinks.

The hushed quiet hovers over his head, challenging in its solemnity. It makes him want to start singing at the top of his lungs or something; anything to shatter the silence. But that’d definitely get him fired.

 _Matthews, Michaelson, Zusak… wait. Z’s again?_ Wasn’t he just in the M-section? He feels childish, scanning the titles of books he’ll probably never read, shoving the feeling of disorientation back down his throat. He’s not lost—he isn’t—just turned around a bit. Who knew one building could be so confusing? What he really wants is to find his way outside and have a smoke. Then again, Steve had said something about snow. There aren’t many windows for him to look out of, but he knows it’s late, just around the time that snow was supposed to be falling.

Bucky inhales sharply, taking in a deep breath. All he has to do is focus, retrace his steps, and he’ll be back to the lobby in no time. _Stay positive, Barnes_ , he thinks bitterly. It’s his therapist’s fault for getting the cheesy phrase stuck in his head.

It takes him a minute or to, but he does find the lobby. Ms. Carter’s back is to him as he slinks to the front desk, but she swivels at hearing him approach and sighs in relief.

“Oh, Barnes; good! I thought you’d blacked-out again. I was about to send Miss Maximoff to find you.” The librarian steps aside, revealing the flushed face of a beautiful girl he doesn’t recognize. She has to be his age—maybe younger, she’s about a head shorter than him—but the hazel eyes blinking back at him look _ancient_. He knows it’s crazy, but it’s true: her gaze holds anything but innocence or naiveté.  

Those eyes feel like his reflection.

“James, this is Wanda—I’m having her on shelving to start out. Don’t worry; she knows this place better than you do,” Ms. Carter assures him, stifling a laugh. Wanda doesn’t smile at him, but her expression remains soft, and open.

He reaches over the counter to extend his hand—the right one, of course—mumbling, “You can call me Bucky. S’nice to meet you, Wanda.” She grasps his hand in a firm shake, and when she pulls away he finds himself aching for the warmth of her fingertips.

“Peggy’s mentioned you before,” she whispers, glancing at the woman in question, helping someone out on the other side of the front desk. Bucky isn’t bothered to follow her gaze. Her accent is familiar; reminds him of Natalia’s fluent Russian. He wonders what Wanda’s mother-tongue is. She doesn’t appear foreign—except for those eyes, almost glowing in the tender light. “She seems to like you.” An echo of a smile travels her rosy lips.

“You’d never guess, the way she threatens to fire me,” he quips, surprised by the confidence carried in his tone. “So… you’re working here, now. Right?” _There goes that confidence._

She nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the year, at least,” she replies. “After that, college, hopefully.”

Hm - maybe she’s older than he thought. Bucky hasn’t considered college yet. He just got out of high school; he’s enjoying his relative freedom while it lasts. “Where you thinking of?” he asks, conversationally. His therapist would be proud.

“Columbia,” she says, in smooth, passive response. “It’s nearby. Some of my friends are there already.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, lamely. This is where his people-skills run dry. He feels her eyes on him, but he can’t muster up the courage to meet her gaze.

He’s saved by Ms. Carter, calling Wanda away for some task. He watches her leave, feels the knot in his chest twist and loosen rhythmically.

It’ll be a miracle if he survives another two months of employment with Wanda Maximoff as his co-worker.

* * *

 

“I thought I told you to quit those things,” Steve says, flicking at the pack of cigarettes in Bucky’s hand. “Bad for your health.”

“Sure, _mom_ ,” Bucky grumbles, a cigarette already between his lips, “I hear you.” He pats his pockets, brows furrowing in annoyance. “Forgot my lighter,” he says softly. He runs his free hand through his hair, spitting out the cig. He leans back into his seat, puts both palms over his face. Swallows the urge to scream.

“Hey,” Steve says, voice urgent, eyes full of worry. He tries to hide it with a teasing smile, but Bucky isn’t fooled. “I saw that girl you told me about. You won’t believe this, but, I know her brother. That zippy bastard from Bio class—Pietro. Remember him?”

Bucky winces at the poor choice of words, but pushes the feeling aside. Wanda. He hasn’t had the courage to speak to her for a week or so. She smiles at him and says good morning when they meet, but that’s all. He’s grateful for that, in a way. She lets him fight out of the silence on his own, never pushing for words or _normal conversation_. He’s yet to find anyone else who does that for him.

“When did you see her?” he asks Steve, genuinely curious. Bucky’s been hard-pressed to catch a glimpse of her around town. He figured she just wasn’t in the area, but if her brother went to high school with them, she couldn’t live too far away.

“At the froyo-shop. She was there with Pietro. You should’ve seen the two of them, laughing and talking over each other. Not in English though, some other language. Nat says it isn’t Russian.”

Bucky takes in the information like a blow to the chest. He feels starved for knowledge about Wanda. She’s been such a mystery to him, with those ancient, burning eyes and the way she moved through the library halls, all grace and tentative smiles. It was getting a little easier to navigate the impressive building, like she was a north-star in his sea of thoughts. He felt pulled to her, wherever he was. He ached to hear her laughter, the sound of her voice whispering over shelves and deserted aisles. He’d never felt so much _need_ for one person—and if he was honest, it terrified him.

“Why were you at the froyo-shop?” Bucky asks, absent-mindedly. He’s still imagining Wanda, at some table with a brother he can’t picture, words spilling from her mouth with ease, without fear. Wanda smiling. Wanda being happy. The idea shouldn’t send his heart tumbling, but it does.

“Went with Nat for a date,” Steve clarifies, enjoying the look of wonderment on his friend’s face. “She doesn’t like strawberries apparently.”

“Wanda?”

“No,” Steve replies, chuckling. “Nat doesn’t like ‘em. I haven’t a clue about _Wanda_ ,” he says, stressing the girl’s name. Bucky refuses to blush, but a warmth churns in his cheeks just thinking about her. He wishes he had a little more swagger, a little more carefree confidence when it came to that girl.

But that Bucky Barnes disappeared years ago.

* * *

 

“Barnes, you’re absolutely pitiful,” Ms. Carter drawls, swatting at his shoulder. “Go talk to her, already.” She motions to where his gaze has been fixed for the past few minutes, where Wanda stands, shelving books.

He shakes his head, fists clenching and unclenching on the wood of the front desk. “I can’t,” he mutters, eyes downcast. His gaze flicks up to meet Peggy’s, a look a disbelief written plainly on her features. “No, really, I can’t,” he repeats, desperate to keep his voice to a whisper. “I want to, but it’s like my throat closes up whenever I see her. I’m a wreck around her,” he says, his voice breaking. He clears his throat and breathes deeply.

“Oh, James,” she says, softly. A long pause, and he’s tempted to look back at Wanda, but he has a feeling Peggy’s about to say something.

“She likes you, you know.” The words buzz around his head, but he can’t believe them. Can’t _let_ himself believe them. “She does,” Peggy insists. “And, really. What’s the worst that could happen? She stops talking to you? You aren’t speaking as it is,” she says, a kind, if not teasing, smile on her face. “You like her. Don’t let fear keep you from a good thing. Go on,” she whispers. “Go to her. Smile and she won’t stand a chance.”

He almost laughs, almost bursts out laughing. He gives Ms. Carter an unexpected smile. She’s right about one thing, at least. He likes Wanda. Likes her a lot; wants to know her more. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ _Stay positive, Barnes_.

And before he can second-guess himself, he walks over to her, taps her on the shoulder, and smiles.

“Hi,” he whispers, and she grins, those eyes fixed on him.

“Hi,” she whispers back, and he swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Message my [tumblr](http://winterxblood.tumblr.com/ask)!


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